Page 24 of A Baby for the Mountain Man

“Okay,” the tech says, rubbing the wand over my stomach. “Let’s see what we have here.”

Cliff tightens his hold on my hand. We both lean toward the screen, watching as images come into view.

So does Dr. Bennet. “Oh, boy.”

“It’s a boy?” Cliff blinks in surprise. “You can already tell?”

I don’t tear my gaze from the screen, where I’m still not entirely sure you can see anything. “Were you hoping for a boy?”

“I’m good either way. Just so long as they’re healthy, I’ll be happy.”

“Then you should be twice as happy,” the doctor says. She grins at our confused expressions. “You have two healthy-looking babies in there.”

Cliff sucks in a breath. “Two babies?”

I blink as my stomach drops to the floor. “Twins?”

I glance worriedly at Cliff. He’s still getting used to the idea of having one baby. Now, with two, I wouldn’t be surprised if he passed out right now.

But as I look into his face, into those dark, rich eyes of his, I don’t see the panic or even the slightest hit of fear. I see the surprise and, if I’m not mistaken, the first hint of real excitement.

“Two babies,” he whispers again. He squeezes me closer to him and presses a kiss on the top of my head.

The sweetness of the gesture soothes my worries. Now, for the first time since hearing the news, I allow myself the pleasure of processing what they mean.

Twins. When I set out to become a mom, I never even considered the possibility that I might have multiples. Now that I know that I will, well, it’s pretty exciting.

With both of us still feeling all of our emotions, the tech helps us see both babies on the screen. It’s too soon to know much about them, other than they both appear to be on track size-wise.

Dr. Bennet runs over details about care, and what I can expect with a pregnancy of two versus one baby. Cliff nods along, and I can practically see him committing every tidbit to his memory.

I’m glad he’s paying such close attention because I can barely hear everything she says while I look at our babies in the printout the tech just handed me.

Our babies. A tear slips down my cheek.

“Hey.” Cliff releases my hand and swipes the tear from my face. He cups my cheek and stares deeply into my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I swallow past a lump in my throat, and once again say, “Better than okay.”

He studies me closely for another second then releases my cheek to take my hand again. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll put the nursery together. Winter is practically chomping at the bit to throw us a baby shower. All you have to do is take care of yourself.”

“I’m not worried. I’m happy.”

“So am I.” He releases a shaky breath. “But I meant what I said. I don’t want you worrying about anything. Let me do all of the worrying.”

It’s about the most perfect thing he, or anyone, could say at this moment.

The doctor and tech leave us to give us some privacy while I pull myself together. Cliff holds my hand and practically hovers as I wipe my belly clear and sit up to get my clothing back in position.

“I was thinking…” I chew the inside of my cheek.

“That’s always a good start.” He chuckles when I lightly elbow his ribs.

“I was thinking,” I begin again, this time more sternly, “that maybe we should have the babies in Alaska.”

His hold on me tightens, and I can sense his posture tensing. “You do?”

I nod. “I mean, you’ve built a pretty nice little life up in Alaska with your cabin and your work.”

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